


Not in my House

by floosilver8



Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: Blasphemy, Breaking the Fourth Wall, F/M, Love Confessions, Post-Canon, Sex, endless fucking blasphemy, god wants you to have sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 02:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20900285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floosilver8/pseuds/floosilver8
Summary: After a series of seemingly accidental run-ins, the hot priest reconsiders.Just fixing canon so they *spoilers* end up together.





	Not in my House

God scowled as they watched him walk away. This always happened. Mortals! Ugh! Create a species in your image and you should expect them to have your flaws. It was going to take more than foxes to send him in the right direction. God sighed and sent a bolt of lightning in his path.

CRASH

The young priest nearly jumped out of his skin as the lightning struck the slab of slate pavement a yard away from him. His ears were ringing and there were spots in his eyes. _What the fuck was that?! _he thought as he blinked widely several times. “What the fuck? What the fuck?...What the fuck?” he gasped, his brain trying to catch up with the shock. He looked around for any other witnesses but the street was deserted. He sat down hard on the kerb, dazed and not sure what else to do. A rustle in the bushes to his right brought him back to the present. He glanced over his shoulder and saw her face coming toward him. He blinked again and she was gone…except…she wasn’t gone…there was… fur? _Fur? Is that right? Red fur?_ “OH FUCK!” he shouted as the fox continued to saunter toward him. He leapt off the pavement and sprinted in the direction he had been heading before the lightning struck. It was a blur from sprinting, to reaching the high street, and flagging down a cab.

His brain buzzed as he caught his breath in the backseat. He knew he’d pass out as soon as he reached home. From the adrenaline saying goodbye to her…fuck, just being in her presence gave him a rush. And then fucking lightning! And of course, a _fucking fox_ had to show up. He rubbed his face vigorously, thinking of her. Her face in the dim light. Her weak smile and tears in her eyes. He willed himself to stop thinking of her, but he couldn’t. His own tears hadn’t even dried and still threatened to spill over. More now from shock probably.

He looked into the middle distance and whispered “Fuck.”

***

It was 10pm, two nights after the wedding, and he couldn’t sleep. He had been wandering around the rectory for what felt like hours. It had definitely been hours, now that he thought of it. He looked around at the scattered, empty bottles of whiskey. How many did he go through? Not enough. Sunday services had been a blur for him, but none of the parishioners seemed to notice. He searched the cupboard for his stash of pre-mixed gin and tonics. He’d probably have to switch to a different drink now as they only reminded him of her. Where were they? “Damn it,” he said to his wall, before lacing up his trainers and walking out the door.

\---

He grabbed a green basket off the stack just inside the vestibule. The florescent lights made his retinas ache slightly, but he knew the path to the booze aisle well, he’d walked it many times over the last week or so. Self-medicating…because of her. He sighed and turned the corner.

He saw her immediately. Standing there in front of the multi-packs, pastry in her left hand, right hand resting near the G&T cans like she couldn’t make up her mind. “Fuck,” he said, louder than he meant to.

“Oh my god,” she jumped slightly, realising it was actually him. She nearly dropped her half-eaten pain-au-chocolate, but managed to hold on.

_Priorities,_ he said to himself, smiling just over his shoulder. His heart soared. The adrenaline rush was back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- I just,” he searched for the words.

“No, it’s okay,” she managed with a weak smile. “I’m just going to pay,” she held up her pastry hand and started to turn.

“No! Please!” he nearly shouted. He would have done anything to keep her standing there. Looking at him with her large, dark eyes. “Shit, she’s beautiful,” he said to himself.

“What?” she blinked.

Had he said that out loud? He hadn’t meant to. “I umm,” he faltered. “I’m sorry,” he said finally.

She pressed her lips together firmly and nodded, turning quickly and walking away. She dropped her pastry behind some bottles of pinot and walked out of the store.

***

He hadn’t gotten drunk that night, or the night after for that matter. However, he did lay on his bed in the dark, taking himself in hand. He thought of her, of course. She hadn’t been his first, but she was certainly his most recent. Most…something. Maybe most everything. He couldn’t get her purple bra out of his head. He had unwrapped her like a bloody gift. Maybe she was. She had been so quick with his belt and palmed his growing erection through his jeans. Fuck, that was hot.

He came much quicker than he meant to.

***

On Wednesday, after his church duties were finished for the day he changed into his civilian clothes and grabbed the Tube a few stops to his favorite bookshop. He was hoping some good old escapism would help him. But some street preachers were crowding the corner entry door. He tried to tell them he was a priest and thanked them for their service as he shuffled passed, but one still insisted on pressing a pamphlet into his hand. It was for the local Church of England parish’s mass schedule. He pocketed it knowing he’d forget about it until the next time he wore those jeans when he’d find it again.

He made his way to _New Releases_ picking up something that had an appealing cover, before wandering the rest of the store. There was a café on the top floor, and he liked the view from the corner table. It wasn’t too busy today, so he ordered a cuppa and sat, opening his selected book. He hadn’t even gotten through the first page when he heard a familiar gasp. His eyes widened with realisation and he glanced off to the side before he whipped his head up to look at her. _Shit!_ His brain was mush. _Fuck me, she looks gorgeous._

“Sorry, I…” she started gesturing to the book she held in her hand (_Lonely Planet: Finland_), and also vaguely behind her.

He nodded several times, trying to smile naturally, probably looking like a tit. “Going to visit Claire?” he asked lamely, looking pointedly at her book.

“Um, yes,” she replied. “Well, she wants me to. I haven’t…” she was looking everywhere but at him now. “I’m just going to go.”

Before he could make another sound, she had turned and walk away. He sat in shock as his tea arrived, and a few minutes later he saw her on the street below, walking away with a carrier bag. “At least she paid this time."

“What?” the server turned toward him again.

He sucked in his breath, “Nothing, sorry. Talking to myself."

***

Why had he chosen a barbershop across from her café? Why had he done that again? He had made the appointment a few weeks ago and now as he waited, not reading the magazine in his hands, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her little eatery. She had a small sign on the door reading, “Back in 20 Minutes.” Choosing this barber had seemed like a great idea back when he wanted to see her. Wanted to see a lot of her. He could have cancelled. He glanced knowingly into the middle distance. He should have cancelled…but he didn’t want to.

His trim and shave made him feel amazing. Well, at least his head felt amazing. The rest of his body was the same, and there was a crick in his neck forming from holding so still while the barber worked. He rubbed the sore muscles as he exited the shop, not looking where he was going. He collided hard with a fellow pedestrian causing her to nearly drop her phone and pastry.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed.

“Jesus, fuck!” she gasped, trying to untangle herself.

“Oh…shit,” he said weakly as he realised it was her. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.”

She blinked at him several times and glanced at the shop he had just walked out of. “You look…” she swallowed, “um, well...Father”

He smiled over her shoulder. He was really glad he went through with the appointment.

“Were you…um. You weren’t…” she glanced across the street, “looking for me? Or?”

“Oh! Um, no.” He wasn’t really lying. He had just kept his appointment. “No, no. No. Just…hair…shave. All that.” He wasn’t sure if he should look directly at her. “You look well, too,” he said finally.

“I should get back to my shop,” she replied with a firm smile.

“Ok,” he nodded at her as she moved to cross the street. He walked back to the high street, not sure if he’d make another appointment with that barber.

***

On Friday, he finished up with his last morning eucharist visit and was thinking of lunch as he walked toward the bus stop. Maybe he’d actually go somewhere and sit down at a proper table, instead of hovering by a ledge as all the too-busy business-types did. Part of the privilege of his calling was not being in a rush.

He approached the thin bench, glancing over at his fellow commuter. “Fuck, no, sorry,” he gasped and let out a small laugh. Her. _Again? _This was getting weird. Why was he running into her so much?

She looked at him properly and started. “Oh,” she managed weakly, obviously trying not to stare.

He took a seat on the bench next to her. Not as close as he had before. A respectful distance for people who knew each other. Why was she here? This wasn’t her neighborhood…was it? Had he inadvertently ended up by her flat?

“Sorry,” he said eventually.

She glanced at him again.

“I didn’t mean…I just didn’t expect to see you...again.”

She just smiled and nodded.

“I’m doing my visits to the elderly parishioners. And my last one lives,” he pointed vaguely “…It was a couple, actually. Not always the case of course. Actually, what are you doing here? This isn’t your usual…is it? I mean…is it close to yours? It is, isn’t it? But yours is…not that I, um…” he rambled and trailed off.

“I was just, um, helping Claire pack up some things. She had shippers scheduled,” she gave a small smile and pointed up the road. “She lives, um, used to live, right over there.”

Before he could say anything else an elderly woman wearing an over-sized coat and pulling a basket on wheels approached the bus stop. She forcefully joined them on the bench. He had to shift closer to her and could feel her warm leg against his own. He should move his away. _She should move hers away_, he thought, glancing up into the street.

They sat perched on the too-small bench in silence while the woman pulled out her knitting project and clicked her needles together. They tried not to look at each other. Mercifully, the bus arrived shortly after.

They let the elderly woman board first, then he insisted she board next. It wasn’t until he had tapped in on the yellow pad that he realised just how full the bus was. The elderly woman had been given a seat, but it was standing room only for him and…her. He stood close to her, strap-hanging on the opposite side of the center aisle. He glanced around and they accidentally made eye contact. Not accidentally, he wanted nothing more than to look into her eyes. She looked away quickly and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. He looked off, knowingly.

“This is silly,” he laughed, shifting to speak to her properly. Her smile warmed and her eyes sparkled. “Do you want to…I mean, can we get a coffee?”

“I have to open my café,” she said apologetically.

“Perfect! I’ll get to play with Hilary some more!” He genuinely loved that guinea pig.

“And Stephanie!” she exclaimed, grinning widely.

“Who?!” he smiled.

“I didn’t get to tell you! My loan officer – well, former I guess,” she started to explain.

He listened, grinning, as she talked about the new hamster and the awkward day of Claire’s haircut. They both seemed to realise how that day had ended at the same time.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll be very glad to meet Stephanie the not-guinea pig then.”

The bus stopped more suddenly than he had been prepared for and the inertia pressed them together for what felt like an eternity. Her lips were so close to his face. They straightened as soon as they could, both apologising weakly.

“Excuse me!” the elderly woman stood, pushing her basket up the aisle, and pushing _her_ aside, back into him. “This is my stop!” For an old woman she sure was strong.

Without realising what he was doing, he had wrapped his arm around _her_ waist, to keep her from falling over as he also made way to let the woman off. He could feel her melt into his touch and smiled to himself, glancing off into the distance knowingly.

“What was that?” she asked, following his gaze.

“Hmm?” he felt caught out.

“That thing you did. You disappeared for a second,” she said.

\---

She barely had time to put the kettle on in her café before the customers started arriving. He sat at the table closest to the guinea pig/hamster hutch, watching her move and get on easily with her clientele. It was so incredibly…normal. She was in her element; it was a joy to watch. Joe invited himself over to the young priest’s table and chatted while gently stroking Hilary. The older man was eager to talk about anything and everything but was especially interested in discussing religion when it came up. He was himself C of E, of course, couldn’t betray the realm and all that. And had the priest ever thought of going that route before Catholic? Wasn’t the lifestyle more agreeable?

Finally, it quieted down and Joe left, handing Hilary back to her owner. She sat in the chair opposite him, long legs gracefully crossed but stretched out in front of her. He hadn’t stopped smiling the whole time, and his cheeks were bound to start aching from it at any moment. She smiled back at him, tired but at ease.

“I’m glad I keep bumping into you,” he said after a moment.

She pressed her lips together and broke eye contact with him to nuzzle Hilary. “Really, Father? Because I thought you never wanted to see me again…with the greatest of compliments…and all that.”

_I love you_. "Heh," he laughed. _I love you. Don’t say it, _he willed himself to think of anything else_. _“I love you,” he said out loud. _Shit_. He hadn’t meant to say it. “I do.”

She took a deep breath and her smile faltered, “It’ll pass.”

He nodded, not sure that it would, but if he stopped running into her it might eventually not bother him so much. A long moment passed between them.

“I think…” he cleared his throat, not sure what he really thought. He glanced at the time. “I think…Stephanie just shat in my hand.” There were indeed little brown pellets in his palm, a surprising number of them. They both burst out laughing and he tucked the hamster back in her cage. He cleaned himself up in the loo and she was leaning by the till when he came out.

“I think I should go,” he said finally.

She just nodded.

“It was…really good to see you though.” _Really._

“You too,” she straightened up and moved to cross her arms in front of her chest.

But in that split second, he thought she was going in for a hug, so he leaned forward, arms out. As he moved toward her and she moved her arms, her hands brushed the front of his trousers. He froze in place, mortified.

“Oh, fuck, sorry!” she said apologetically, pulling her hands back and trying to inch away clumsily.

“No, I’m so sorry!” he said still stunned and bathing in the awkwardness of the moment. He stepped back and let out a small self-conscious laugh. “I’ll just…” he pointed toward the door.

He raced down the street, trying not to run, but really wanting to burst into flame. “Why are you doing this?” he said to God, finally pausing in front of a random house to catch his breath. “Please, God. I just…Why?”

“God’s sending you a message, dear,” a voice came from behind him.

He whipped around to look at the speaker and registered the elderly woman from earlier. She was standing by the garden gate he had just passed and her basket on wheels was tucked against her side. Had she appeared out of nowhere? How had he missed her? He looked up and down the road trying to shake away the cobwebs.

The woman smiled warmly at him and patted his arm as she walked past him, “Listen with your heart. Sometimes people answer the wrong call.”

He watched her walk away and disappear around the next corner. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to consider if she was right.

\---

That night he sat in the rectory garden, avoiding Pam and drinking the G&Ts he hadn’t yet opened from the first time he had awkwardly run into _her_. He drank enough to feel that delightful buzz and want more, but he cut himself off there. His mind would wander to her, and he’d smile knowingly out into the darkness. Eventually he walked himself inside, took off his clothes and slept hard in his lumpy bed.

***

He didn’t leave the church grounds for a few days. He was busy with mass and other things, of course. But finally, he had to venture further afield for his weekly eucharist trips.

She wasn’t at the bus stop by Claire’s old house this time. He didn’t mean to get off the bus near her café, but somehow he found himself being pushed out by the same elderly woman and her basket. He had stood to help retrieve another passenger’s large bag from the rack, and the old woman had scooted herself down the aisle forcing him to exit out the back doors. The driver had closed the doors and started off before he could say anything.

He stood outside the café, blinking up at her generic sign. He would have walked away had she not been leaning against the door, smoking. There were no customers this time. Thursday not being as popular apparently. She kept eye contact with him as she stubbed out her fag and tossed it in the nearby bin. She turned silently and went inside, leaving the door open for him. He quickly followed, and shut it behind himself.

“Hi,” he said eventually.

“Hi,” she replied.

“How are yo-”

“What are yo-”

They both started speaking at the same time.

“Sorry,” he said. “You go.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, not impolitely.

He let out a small laugh, “I don’t actually know.” He took a seat, at the nearest table, “Having lunch?”

She nodded and served him, moving as easily as she had the other day he had sat in her shop. She sat at his table with a coffee and they found things to chat about, mostly the resident rodents.

“I was going to go to Finland this weekend to see Claire, but the pet-boarding place I arranged changed their mind and won’t take them now,” she mentioned, stroking Stephanie’s fur.

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, I was…looking forward to getting away,” she smiled weakly.

“Then you should! I can take them!” he found himself saying. _Could he?_

“Really?” she exclaimed doubtfully.

“Yes! Really!” _What?_

"Seriously?!" 

_No._ "Yes, please! I want to!"

“Are you sure?”

_No, absolutely not._ “I insist!” Why was he so excited about taking care of animals? He looked off to the side knowingly. It was a guarantee that he’d get to see her again.

She agreed finally and gave him instructions for their feeding schedule, before finally handing them over in their crate.

_Oh, knuckle brush_, he thought to himself.

“I’m back Sunday night. I could…I guess I could come to you…”

“No, no,” he insisted, “I can meet you. Um, here or…at your flat. Wherever.” _Her flat? What the fuck?_

“Oh, okay,” she agreed. “My flat would be great. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem! It’s my pleasure!” he was trying to convince himself. Was it?

“Really, thank you,” she said earnestly before he left.

***

The weekend with the rodents was uneventful. He rather enjoyed having their company at times, but they chattered at night and woke him occasionally.

Her flight was getting in sort of late, so he had plenty of time to agonise over seeing her again. He went through four different outfits before choosing his most stylish jeans and the blue shirt that hugged his pecs and biceps.

He carried Hilary and Stephanie’s crate up her street, regretting not getting a taxi, but thankful for the little workout. Just before he got to her stoop a passing car tooted its horn, startling him, causing him to jolt the cage.

She smiled warmly at him as she opened the door, letting him past and helping him put the cage in the kitchen.

“Hope they didn’t give you any trouble,” she said kindly.

“Oh, no, no, they were great. Hardly a peep.” He smiled and peeked into the cage one more time, intending to say his goodbyes to them. But he noticed Hilary laying very still in her wood chips. The blood drained from his face and his stomach dropped. _Shit. Oh, fuck._

“What?” she asked, seeing his face.

“Oh my -! She was fine, I swear! Oh fuck, she’s dead. I killed her!”

“What?!” she struggled to open the cage door, seeing her beloved guinea pig stiff and still.

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry. Fuck, fuck I’m sorry,” he rambled. He’d never had pets growing up but he knew that people could be really attached.

She stood finally, cradling Hilary in her palm and stroking her gently.

He held his breath, waiting for her to say something. Anything!

Suddenly, Hilary wiggled and chattered.

“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed

“It’s ok,” she smiled finally. “She was just playing dead. She must have been scared by something outside.”

“She was…are you sure?! She’s not hurt, is she?” he still hadn’t taken a full breath.

“No seriously, she’s fine,” she reassured him, touching his arm then putting Hilary back. “Guinea pigs only live for like, eight years at the very most anyway and it’s been more than three since I gave her to Boo and…” she cleared her throat. “And she may have been few years old when I got her, so…”

“So, I didn’t kill her? I’m not a murderer?” he said relief starting to take over.

“Well, the night’s still young, and I have a kitchen full of sharp knives if you get the urge,” she joked and punched his arm lightly.

_Second arm touch_, he noted to himself, glancing in that direction. He couldn’t help but smile and he let out a small laugh. Before he knew what was happening his arms were around her shoulders, hugging her to him. She smelled amazing despite the hours spent traveling. His eyes popped open when he realised what he had done. He dared not move a muscle, and he was soon thankful he hadn’t because her arms slowly and cautiously wound around his waist, holding him gently.

They both took a deep breath and he slowly pulled back to look at her face properly, resting his hands on her upper arms, not wanting to let go fully. They hadn’t been this close since…he tried not to think about it, but a lump formed in his throat anyway. His thumb stroked her arm of its own accord, and he would swear to himself later that the earth moved and pushed him forward again, nearly bringing their lips together.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, glancing up at him.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, “I don’t know,” he managed, finally releasing her. _FUCK!_ He shouted to himself, rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair roughly. “Fuck!” he said pointedly to her curtains. “I am so sorry,” he started to ramble, “I can’t stop fucking running into you and it’s driving me crazy, and some old ghost woman told me it’s a sign from God. And honestly, I really want it to be, because you are so…” he could only think to make a low growling noise to articulate what she was. “And I am so…” his thoughts faltered, “…fucked.” He took a deep breath again. “I am so fucked,” he said more calmly. Would he feel better, rehashing this again? He couldn’t tell. But he couldn’t keep his mouth shut for some reason.

She stood very still while he spoke, and her calm but concerned face comforted him. He stepped a little closer to her now.

“I really want to kiss you,” he confessed. “I want to take you right there on your sitting room carpet.” He noted her slow blink and controlled breathing.

“You might regret it,” she managed a small smile.

He shook his head slightly.

“You might actually. It’s not a soft rug,” she laughed, which made him smile for a moment.

“And then I want to have you up against the wall,” he started slowly. “And I don’t want to think about anything except for how good you feel.” He rested a hand on her hip, drawing her a little closer. “Is that…” he swallowed hard, staring at her lips “do you…”

“Yes,” she whispered, nodding once.

And before he could finish his question in his head, their mouths crushed together. It was exactly what he had longed for and it sent a bolt of static through his body but especially to his cock. Fuck, she felt fantastic. Her lips, her tongue, her hands grasping at him. He was desperate to kiss every inch of her skin that he could. Her top was rather quickly drawn over her head and tossed on the floor and his shirt soon followed. She was wearing that purple bra again. The one that had haunted his dreams and fueled his fantasies. He made sure it found the floor like the rest of their clothing soon would.

Her skin. The feel of her warmth under his fingers and lips. How could this be a sin? How could God create something so miraculous and at the same time forbid it? He kissed her hungrily, his breath hitching in his throat, drowning in her. He kissed a trail along her jaw, to the side of her throat where he knew she liked to be kissed. He smiled internally at the little gasps that escaped her.

Her hands were making quick work of his belt and trouser zip. He ran his hand along the back of her thigh, under her skirt and up to her arse. Fuck, she had a great arse. And tits. He let go of her arse to duck slightly and concentrate on her pert breasts. They felt amazing in his hands and her nipples were so responsive to his touch, and tongue. Her little gasps and sighs drove him to distraction. She let him work for a bit on her tits but pushed him away gently to stoop and meet his face again, showering him with passionate open-mouthed kisses as they knelt on the ground, pressing their bodies together as much as they could.

Her tongue. Fuck, her tongue was doing incredible things to his earlobe. If there had been any remaining doubt before, it was all gone now. He was on the verge of fucking tearing her apart. He took control, pushing her gently to the ground, on her back and rucking her skirt up, making his intentions perfectly clear. He was impressed by how quickly she slipped her knickers off. And then her hands found his trousers and pants and attempted to help push them down. _I shouldn’t have worn such tight trousers_, he chastised himself. He lay on his back and lifted his hips to get them down and off, she appeared over him, ripping open a condom packet quickly and handing it to him. He slipped the Johnny on his almost painfully hard erection as quickly as he could. And she wasted no time in climbing on top of him, taking his cock in hand, and sliding it inside herself.

Her moan. Fuck, her moan would play on a loop in his brain forever. And her warmth. He’d never tire of her soft, hot center. He held her hips as they slowly started to move together, finding their rhythm. She braced herself with one arm by his head and one working her clit which he found almost too erotic, her breasts bouncing so near his face. He really regretted not going down on her this time. He wanted to fuck her for eternity. No night out in his youth, no experimental drug taking, no quick shag had ever felt this good...the love of his life...bouncing on his cock as fast as they could manage.

“Don’t stop!” she pleaded, mouth open, pumping with him, working herself to completion.

“Fuck,” he nearly shouted, his fingers digging into her thighs. She felt so good he didn’t want it to end, but finally she stiffened and gasped. He could actually feel her orgasm pulsing around his cock, and he shouted out his own release into her neck.

They lay there, mostly naked, for a few moments. She rolled to lay beside him and he examined a raw patch on his elbow.

“Told you,” she said still breathing heavily. “Not a soft rug.”

He laughed freely, kissing her jawline and raising to grab a tissue and dispose of the condom in the nearest bin. “Does it compare to nine times though?” he asked jokingly, resuming his spot next to her on the floor.

She smiled pointedly, “It means more.”

He started to turn and look pointedly at the ceiling, but she caught his jaw. “Don’t,” she said, “don’t disappear.”

They gazed at each other for a long moment, just breathing and being together.

“Is this what you want?” she asked him finally.

He let out a long sigh. _Yes._ He wanted to be with her forever. But what he wanted and what he should do were completely different things. He thought about the last few days, and the last few weeks. His faith felt challenged, sure…but more so the rules and regulations of his calling. He could have faith in God and also…a different life. Maybe. He hadn’t worked it out yet, but the path to her seemed to be forming.

“Yes,” he said at last. He took her hand in his and kissed her shoulder lightly. “We’ll figure it out…together.”

***

God smiled and sat back. “Jesus, it’s like I have to do everything around here,” they sighed and went back to their knitting, purple yarn hanging out of their basket on wheels. “Just keep it out of my house, ok?”

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fic in literally years so this feels a little vulnerable, but I also had to get it out there. Thanks for reading.


End file.
